


Your Attention Please

by tara_duchess_of_nil



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Cruelty, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Whining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:49:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2508458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tara_duchess_of_nil/pseuds/tara_duchess_of_nil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy finds himself not quite at the center of Thomas' universe when he arrives back at Downton from America ... and tries to make him pay for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Attention Please

Thomas would not shut up.

Ever since he had arrived back at Downton earlier that afternoon from accompanying Lord Grantham on his trip to America, he had been bursting with tales of the New World, and eager to share them with anyone who had a willing or even vaguely interested ear. 

Jimmy watched Thomas after dinner as he practically held court at the table, a circle of rapt maids, hall boys, and even Mr Carson hanging on his every word. At first this had made Jimmy smile; it was wonderful to watch his lover at the center of some egregiously rare positive attention, seeing that he was perpetually at the receiving end of a barked Mr. Carson command or a sneered Bates punchline.

Jimmy sighed, turned his head, and cracked his neck as Thomas finished his discourse on “Coney Island Hot Dogs” and immediately launched into a soliloquy on his next newly discovered American foodstuff delight. 

“And there’s this spread that comes in a jar and it’s made from peanuts—which aren’t actually nuts. They’re legumes,” Thomas practically whispered in awe.

“Legumes,” Molesley echoed, rolling the word on his tongue and then chuckling to himself.

“And you can put it on toast, or apples, or even chocolate. They call it peanut butter and it’s so delicious just straight from the jar."

"Oh my,” Mrs Patmore gasped, shuddering at the thought that there was anything better than good, pure English butter and the sheer decadence of eating something without the politeness of at least a slice of bread to temper the thrill.

“And then, there’s this wonderful sort of bread called a pizza pie, yeah?” Thomas said, his eyes going wide and Jimmy groaned and stretched, knocking a spoon onto the floor. He dove under the table to retrieve it. He was getting desperate to get upstairs to carefully rip off the underbutler’s jacket and trousers, bend him over his bed and pound into that perfect, pale arse that he had been aching for over the past two months … and then just lie entwined in the darkness, quietly sharing each other’s hopes and fears. 

Jimmy found himself face to face with Thomas’ crotch. He leaned in and pressed his nose against the fabric and, much to his disgust, Thomas was rock hard. Jimmy exhaled, hoping the heat would disrupt the older man’s chattering but Thomas did not miss a beat; he was already getting immense pleasure from the attention of the others. 

Jimmy sat up abruptly and bumped his head on the table.

“Bloody hell!” he yelped, earning a stern growl of, “Language, James,” from Mr Carson.

Jimmy punched Thomas in the leg in annoyance, and the underbutler managed to bite back a grunt of pain. 

The footman stood up and sniffed, “I’m goin’ ta bed!” and promptly stomped up the stairs, throwing what he hoped was a withering glance over his shoulder in the direction of his lover. Thomas managed to catch his eye and nod slightly, then turned back to his audience and continued, “Hamburgers! Such lovely bits of meat …”

\--------------------------------------------

Jimmy had angrily stripped down to his undershirt and pants and was slipping on his pajama bottoms when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Jimmy?” Thomas asked tentatively.

“Get in here,” Jimmy ordered, almost surprised at the deepness of his voice. Thomas gently turned the doorknob and opened the door. He was still fully dressed and his breath hitched at the sight of Jimmy fuming, his chest heaving through the thin fabric of the undershirt, his golden, immaculate wave of hair tumbling down his forehead and catching in his lashes.

“Christ Jimmy, you’re a sight for sore eyes …”

“Ya think so?” Jimmy said with a shrug. “I’d never know it by the way you’ve been acting.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows as Jimmy folded his arms against his chest and huffed, "You just had a grand bloody STUPID holiday in America, didn’t you?”

“I’d hardly call laundering a particularly stubborn stain out of his lordship’s underpants a holiday,” Thomas chuckled and removed his jacket.

“Hmmpf. Sounds like you didn’t even have time to give me a second thought.”

“I wrote to you, Jimmy,” Thomas said, trying to reign the exasperation that was increasing by the second. With careful anger, he threw his jacket over the desk chair.

“Right, right. Yes, of course. You said you were pining away for me but I didn’t know you were enjoying yourself eating your way through New York and having Stupid. Bloody. Fun.”

“Well, I had to stick something in my mouth to try and satisfy my hunger for you,” Thomas said lowly, hoping to coax a smile from the younger man. “Never quite worked, though,” he added under his breath as he reached out to caress the other man’s cheek.

Jimmy swatted his hand away and snapped, “Just take your clothes off.” 

Thomas tried to hold in an irritated sigh, nodded and made quick work of undressing while the footman watched wordlessly, his face a mask of anger that Thomas found both arousing and frightening … but not surprising since Jimmy had proven his emotions to be as changeable as the weather.

Thomas was left in his undershirt and pants and turned to speak but found himself slammed him against the wall, leaving him breathless. 

The two men locked eyes as Jimmy held firm onto Thomas’ shoulders, his fingernails digging into the shirt and the soft skin that lay underneath.

“Jimmy, … oh ...” Thomas moaned with a slight smile through the pain and surprise, “M-m-missed this. Missed us.”

Jimmy leaned forward and breathed into Thomas’ gaping mouth, "What are you feeling right now. Tell me.”

Thomas let out a shaky sigh, “I’m thinking … hnnnnngh … ah fuck I can’t think at all like this.”

“Speak goddamnit.”

“Ah Christ, Jimmy. You know I need you. Fuck, I need to fuck you."

Jimmy released Thomas from his grip and pushed him away and said smugly, “Well, good luck with that.”

Thomas tried to shake himself free from the fog of lust and cried out, "What the hell are you playing at? I mean--” 

“You left me behind and when you came home, you ignored me,” Jimmy cut him off and punctuated his statement with a pout.

“Jimmy, it’s not as if I had a choice about traveling and we were both rushed off our feet today; we couldn’t even chat privately for just a moment! Surely you can’t be cross with me about that?”

Jimmy stared blankly at him, waiting for him to continue. Thomas hated speaking to this wall that Jimmy would occasionally throw up and would keep talking to bridge any bit of silence that fell between them.

"And do you really need a reminder that I can never walk in the door, take you into my arms and kiss you right on the lips in front of everyone like we were the bloody fucking Bateses? That’s not how it works, remember?"

Jimmy ignored the question and said flatly, “The servants’ hall.” 

Thomas slipped out a slightly bewildered, “Pardon?”

“You got off on their attention, and not me,” Jimmy replied with a genuine ache in his voice. “You didn’t care about me."

“You know that’s not true. Stop being such a bloody child, for Christ’s sake, it’s neither terribly clever nor charming."

Jimmy sauntered away from Thomas until his back hit the door. He leaned against it with his head thrown back, a slight smile playing across his face. 

“You’ve had your audience. Now it’s my turn.”

He grabbed his shirt by the back of the collar and lifted it over and off his head. Thomas took in every inch of smooth, tanned skin before him; the skin he had fallen in love instantly when he saw the newly hired footman changing into his livery. The skin he loved to run his tongue over again and again, pressing in bites both gentle and punishing.

Thomas felt his desire coiling upwards past the irritation and moved to take himself into his hand.

“Don’t. You. Dare."

Thomas blinked in confusion.

“You … you touch yourself and I will cut your hand off,” Jimmy hissed, then nodded his head toward Thomas’ right side, “The good one, too.”

He then rubbed the back of his neck as if he were deep in thought, and slowly and sensually ran his right hand down the strong muscles of his neck to his chest. Thomas watched him hungrily, closed his eyes and groaned in frustration.

“Thomas, look at me.”

Thomas sadly shook his head no.

"I can’t.”

“Do it. Goddamnit see … see what you’re missing."

Thomas opened one eye as Jimmy circled his palm back and forth from nipple to nipple until they grew hard under his touch, a soft moan escaping from his mouth with every movement. Thomas squeezed the one eye shut as a whine whistled from his nose.

“Look at me or I’ll never touch you again.” Jimmy growled and was pleased with the tone of authority he never realized he had.

Thomas had learned that Jimmy was the master of hyperbole and idle threats yet deep down he feared that one day the spell would be broken and Jimmy would be gone forever. (Thomas couldn’t even believe how his luck had turned once he offered Jimmy a genuine friendship that had slowly blossomed into something much, much more.)

With a soft sigh, Thomas slowly opened his eyes and gazed at the sight of his lover across the room as Jimmy slid his left hand over and over again across his flat belly.

“Uhhhhhhhhh,” Jimmy moaned from his own touch. “Mmmmmm … feels so good. So fucking good.”

Thomas’ mouth started to water when Jimmy began rocking his hips in time to the languid circles he made around his torso.

“Don’t you wish I were touching you this way?” Jimmy said before he let out a particularly animalistic groan as he pinched one of his nipples. “Ah f-f-fuck, I’m good at this. I’m fucking brilliant at this. Fuck.”

Thomas’ fingernails scraped against the wall as he scrambled for something to hold on to to avoid touching his cock. He clung to the wall with sweaty palms and started to thrust his hips toward Jimmy like a desperate animal, his erection bobbing with every movment, like a divining rod fruitlessly searching to quench his thirst for that perfect heaven that was Jimmy’s mouth, Jimmy’s hand, Jimmy’s tightness.

Jimmy smirked at the sight and huffed, “Hmmmm. Look at you. You want this?”

Thomas pursed his lips together in response. He had never sweated so much in his life and raised his shaking hands above his head to keep them as far away from his cock as possible.

“Answer me.”

“Yes. Yes, my love, very much.”

“Tell me how much.”

“I crave you, Jimmy. Crave you every second of every day."

“Yessssss,” Jimmy hissed as his hand finally reached his leaking cock. He encircled it in a loose fist and gently began massaging himself, “Mmmmmm more, Thomas. 

“Every night alone in my bed while I was gone, I took myself in hand and thought of you.”

“And?”

“I’d pull and squeeze and … Jesus, my … my fingers were a pathetic … imitation of you.”

“And?”

“Ahhhhh, I’d … I’d … just … just …"

Thomas felt the room spinning, his blood pounding in his ears as he tried and fought with all of his might to resist the urge to bring himself off. And as in most things in their relationship, Jimmy always set the rules.

The pain of unspent arousal, the pain of separation, the pain of being utterly in love with this magical, mercurial boy made Thomas raise his fist to his mouth and start to sob quietly.

Jimmy heard the older man’s muffled cry and felt his heart sink. He knew that it took the sharpest of blows to crack that carefully crafted veneer and somehow in the worst of fashions, he had done it.

Jimmy suddenly grabbed his hair in both fists, shook his head and sobbed, “Fuck Thomas, I can’t do this anymore. I’m shite at being cruel.”

He crossed the room and took the older man into his arms and kissed him hard on the mouth, then softly licked away the few tears that were bold enough to fall from the man who wore his rejection like armor.

“I’m so so sorry, love,” Jimmy said as he took Thomas’s pulsing cock into his hand and with a few strokes, drew a long, keening orgasm from his lover. They held each other tightly and sank slowly to the floor.

Jimmy buried his face into Thomas’ collarbone, breathed in his comforting scent of sweat, cologne and cigarettes and mumbled, "Don’t ever go away again.”

Thomas found himself rocking Jimmy softly like a child and whispered, “Never.”

He paused and added, “Unless I’m hungry for some peanut butter.”

Jimmy half-heartedly punched him in the chest and sighed.


End file.
